


Lapdog

by Barb Cummings (Rahirah)



Series: The Barbverse [25]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2009-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:30:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahirah/pseuds/Barb%20Cummings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike on Angel.  (But not like that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lapdog

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the same universe as _A Raising in the Sun_, _Necessary Evils_, et. al. (See the [Barbverse Timeline](http://sleepingjaguars.com/buffy/viewpage.php?page=timeline) for specifics.) It contains spoilers for previous works in the series.

Tell you a secret: Angelus doesn't keep lapdogs. He nails 'em to doors, as a general rule. Knew that from the first night I met him. Roll over and show throat, and he'll oblige you by ripping it out. Stand up to him, give him a little of his own back, make him think there's something about you he hasn't sussed out yet, and you've got a chance.

Angelus and me, we had our times. Twenty years I kept him entertained. Won't say it wasn't fun. It's fucking exhilarating, tweaking the tiger's tail like that. Wasn't a lovefest, if that's what you're thinking. I'm not saying I wasn't fond of the old bastard, but I wasn't in love. Not the way I was with Dru, or Buffy later. More like I wanted to be him when I grew up, yeh? No return in loving Angelus, any road - ask Darla. We shagged a few times, and we fought more than a few times, and most times - all right, every time - he thrashed me. But I never said Uncle. And that's why I'm alive today, in a manner of speaking. Once Angelus breaks you, he thinks he understands you, and once he understands you, he gets bored, and if he gets bored, you're dust.

Now he's got a soul, of course, and won't give me the time of day. Sodding hypocrite. But it's still the same story: long as I keep him a little off his balance he's more likely to growl and back off than try to dust me. 'Course it's a hundred years on and I'm not such an easy mark as I was, either, but that's only half of it. Can't wrap his lobes 'round my walking the straight and narrow without a soul, our Angel. 'Specially when I'm bound to fall on my face more often than not. And until he can puzzle it out, I'm three AM brooding material.

'Course the joke of it is, he's doing the same bloody thing with his helpin' the clueless, in't he? Fighting a fight he can't win? Man doesn't need a soul for his reach to exceed his bloody grasp.

And just between you and me...maybe there's a bit of me'd still like to be him when I grow up. But don't you tell him that. Shouldn't take more'n another century for him to figure it out on his own.

 

END


End file.
